


Safest place to hide

by madhatt



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madhatt/pseuds/madhatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inside Prowl is hurting, but he doesn't let anyone see that. Until Jazz confronts him about it and forces him to take a step forward to recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safest place to hide

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was my way of exorcising my own demons. Or in other words - when you have problems, the best way to deal is to make Prowl suffer with you. It helped me a lot to write this, hope others can enjoy it, too.

“Keep sweet-talking and this could go a whole new direction.”

Prowl straightened his back and looked at Jazz, who was standing in front of him, posture provocatively nonchalant, fully aware how irritating it was for the tactician, this open disregard of protocol, and apparent lack of respect for his fellow officer. Up to that point Prowl refused to look at his friend, stubbornly reading aloud the datapad lying on the desk in front of him, completely ignoring the fact that both of them knew he could repeat the content from memory.

Prowl ground his teeth. Normally, despite what everyone thought about him, Prowl knew how to tolerate this behaviour, even allowed Jazz to partake in it, seeing the obvious perks of lightening the mood like that, especially in front of other Autobots. Not today, however. “Jazz, you don't understand the severity of the situation.”

Jazz had the audacity to actually snort. “Oh ah understand it well enough, I'm not an _idiot,_ ” he said and approach the desk to lean on it and looked straight at Prowl, who had to grip the edge of the desk just so he wouldn't turn his eyes back to the datapad. “What I'm however curious about, is why you've been treating me like one these past few days? When you finally managed to notice me, of course, because that barely happens lately.”

This time Prowl had to look down. He couldn't deny what was true.

“You think I haven't noticed you behaved weird?” asked Jazz quieter.

 _Now you noticed, after all this time._ Prowl would never say it out loud, but he couldn't stop the painful thought from crossing his processor.

“I don't know...”

“What I'm talking about? That what you wanted to say?” Jazz refused to back down. “Prowl, what's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Prowl lied.

They both stayed silent. The tactician was sure Jazz was still staring at him, but with his helm hanging low, he could only see the other's servos, still stubbornly planted on his desk.

“We should go back to discussing the mission, that's what is important right now,” he said finally.

“You are important right now!” Jazz snapped.

“Stop lying,” was out of Prowl's vocalizer before he processed he was actually saying it out loud.

The silence that followed that statement was unbearable. Prowl could hear it ringing in his audials. He looked up at Jazz, who was staring at him with an obvious surprise and lack of understanding brightening his cold blue visor. He was no longer leaning on the desk, having stepped back like if he got struck. He was looking down at Prowl, who was still sitting. “What did you say?” asked Jazz, his voice strained.

“Nothing. We really have to discuss the mission. Optimus-”

“Stop talking about the mission!” Prowl looked at Jazz in surprise. It wasn't often that Jazz let such emotions get to him and seeing that was enough to shock the tactician. It must have been visible on his faceplates, since Jazz, having seen his expression, sighed and moved to sit on the desk. He retracted his visor, looking straight at Prowl, his optics flickering with worry. “Prowl, you are my friend, I can see something is wrong. You've been so quiet lately, quieter than usual... I see you only when we have to work together and even then you are either cold or snap at me for nothing.” Jazz moved closer. “Prowl, have I done something wrong?”

“It's... No, it's not about you at all.” It was a little, but Prowl wasn't about to say that, he didn't even know how to do that, he never talked about himself like that. How was he supposed to tell Jazz how lonely he felt? How much he needed someone, but was too afraid to ask for anything. How afraid he was of reaching out to somebody, anybody, sure his pleads would get ignored.

“Then what?” Prowl jumped as Jazz suddenly touched his cheek, caressing his plating delicately and tilting his helm up, so their optics could meet. “Please, tell me.”

Prowl stayed silent. He thought about this overwhelming feeling of emptiness that flooded both his spark and processor; that terrifying sluggishness of his thoughts, hopelessness of spark and weakness of his frame. He felt so dull and lost and dejected. But he couldn't say any of that. Finally he settled on a simple “I don't feel too good. In my processor, I mean.” Forcing the words out of his mouth was torture and Prowl felt like his vocalizer was about to glitch and die on him any klik. He didn't want to talk about it, but logically he knew he had to. He wasn't stupid, he could now see how much his current mood affected the Autobot cause, and if humiliating himself in front of Jazz and admitting his weakness was the only way he could start mending things, then so be it.

“What do you mean?” Jazz didn't even try to hide his concern.

“I'm just so tired... So alone.”

“Prowl, you are not-” Jazz started, but Prowl didn't let him finish.

“I am.” Prowl's fans cycled loudly. “No one wants me around, they can barely stand me.”

“Prowl, but _I am_ your friend.”

“And yet, we haven't spoken outside of work in an Earth month and you never even sought me out.” Jazz looked at him in surprise. He wanted to deny those words, but Prowl could see he wasn't sure if he actually had the right to deny that. “See? But don't worry, I don't blame you. I'm used to it by now, it's just sometimes harder to bear it. But I'll be back to normal soon. I always am.”

“No. No, no no.” Jazz stood once again. He was shaking his head. “Prowl, don't say things like that.” He moved closer, obviously wanting to touch Prowl, maybe comfort him, but not knowing how to do that. “I know I wasn't the best friend to you, I see that now. But it doesn't mean I don't care. I noticed it, that you behaved odd, but I thought that maybe you wanted some time alone. I was obviously wrong and for that I'm really sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“I am.” He huffed. “But Prowl, why haven't you said anything? If I knew you needed me, I would be there for you.”

Prowl felt his mechanics grind and shake. He shouldn't have to ask his friend for attention. Jazz should have known it by himself and want to spend time with Prowl out of his own free will, not because he had to, just for Prowl's well-being. That's what friendship was supposed to be all about. But at the same time Prowl knew he was being unfair. How was Jazz to know about his problems, when he had vorns of experience hiding it from others and pretending everything was alright. It was cruel to expect Jazz to read his processor. He didn't deserve a friend like Jazz.

“Prowl?”

“I can't ask you to be here for me.” He hated how broken he sounded.

“But of course you can! You have to.” Jazz looked determined. “Between missions and Decepticon rides, I don't always notice everything. And you always look so comfortable by yourself, I thought you didn't want me to bother you too much. But if it's not the case, then I'm so ready to be there for you every single klik.” He scooted closer, finally having found the courage to do so. “Prowl, I love you, you are very important to me.” He cupped Prowl's face in both servos and lightly caressed his cheeks.

“I...” _Love you too,_ was something, that Prowl had never known how to say.

Jazz smiled. “I know.”

Prowl looked away. It didn't change a thing. What did it matter, what they said to each other, how Prowl felt, if it still left him alone with his broken spark and treacherous processor? Jazz's arms moving to embrace him sure felt nice, but it was just a temporary fixture, something that would disappear as soon as Jazz was satisfied, thinking he magically made Prowl's problems disappear with one hug and pat on the cheek. But Jazz couldn't be more wrong, it never disappeared.

Prowl cycled air shakily and hid his face in the crook of Jazz's neck and shoulder. He leaned against the other mech's warm frame, but his arms refused to rise and return the embrace. They were too heavy to move.

“Prowl, you have to stop thinking, at least for a klik. You are killing yourself with all those thoughts, I can tell.”

“It's alright.” How easy it was to say those words and not mean them.

Jazz kept on holding him. Prowl wanted to relax, he really did, but the more he thought about it, the more tense his cables grew and faster his fans whirled. It got so bad that soon his plating was clattering loudly. He whined. Why couldn't he enjoy even that moment, when someone was finally next to him, embracing him so lovingly. The pitiful noise made Jazz pull him even closer and hug him tighter.

“Prowl, you need to see Ratchet about that,” said Jazz.

The tactician tensed more, if it was even possible. His joints were starting to hurt. “No, there's no need.”

“Of course there is. I'll go there with you. We'll talk to Ratchet together if you want, or I'll just wait for you outside. But you need to do that.” He rubbed the space between Prowl's door wings. “Please.”

Prowl took a deep invent, trying to steady himself and calm his processor. He moved closer to Jazz. His warmth was just so inviting, he had to feel it with his whole plating. He was ready to tell anything, just so Jazz would keep on holding him. “Okay, I'll go.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Jazz tilted Prowl's head up and looked at him seriously. “Let's go now.”

“W-what?”

“There's no reason to postpone it, let's go now,” said Jazz and quickly let go of Prowl and stepped away. Instead he took Prowl's servos in his and pulled him up to his feet, and then to the door.

Shocked by this sudden turn, Prowl stumbled after Jazz. Should he protest? He had to admit, objectively it was a good idea, to see Ratchet about his current condition. It didn't mean it was an easy thing to do. But Jazz's warm servo gripping his and the other's sure EM field brushing against his, were preventing his thoughts from running too far away from him.

All too soon they were in front of the medibay and Prowl froze. He gripped Jazz's servo harder. “I can't do that,” he said. His voice was glitching.

Jazz squeezed his servo. “Of course you can.” He turned to the tactician and planted a softest kiss on his cheek. “We'll do it together.”

Then he stepped forward. With a heavy spark and hopeful processor, Prowl followed him.

 


End file.
